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Best Granddaughter Poems

Below are the all-time best Granddaughter poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of granddaughter poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew. 

Hello grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.

Hello Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.

Hello grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Bye, grandpa
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her

By; PD

Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Asperger's Child

Some say you're not quite whole,
But I know better, Angel Child.
You live in a place all your own,
Free, unhinged, sometimes wild.

In precious moments you let me in
And I am stunned by what I see.
Purple trees and butterfly bees
And things I thought couldn't be.

You tell me of other wonders
In a voice so sweet I nearly weep—
Of Daisy Lou, a lizard that's blue,
And of mice that sing you to sleep.

Then abruptly your voice changes
And your look seems far away.
I have become a stranger to you;
You have said all you want to say.

I understand the pattern too well;
You have gone where I can't go.
You dwell there often, Angel Child,
It's where you're wholly whole.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Jesyca

Jesyca
A little girl full of life
With so much love for her papa
It was love at first sight when papa laid eyes on her at her birth
Being her nanny papa never laid her down but cradled her in his arms until it was time to leave
He was mama until she was two
When he would say “No, “Papa”
She would say, “No,” Mama”
He taught her to ride her first tricycle
He taught her to throw her first ball
He helped her with her homework when she started school
Once in a while she calls and asks “Papa would you come to school today and have lunch with me.”
And of course Papa cannot say no to his little girl
Her first baseball game was a t-ball team of all boys and one girl of course she out shined them all and took home the winning game ball 
The next few years she’s made the all –star softball team
At eight years old now coaches are watching her to get her on their team
By Eve Roper
9-10-2014

Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Treasures of My Soul

I held an angel in my arms today,
A precious babe snuggled against my breast.
And my heart was overwhelmed with so much love,
As she lay contentedly at rest.

I watched her as she slept so soundly,
Gazed at her cherub face in sweet repose.
I marveled at her tiny features,
Like her perfect dainty ears and button nose.

I brushed my lips against her downy head,
Her skin like velvet to my touch.
I gave thanks to God above for His priceless blessing
Of this little angel girl I love so much.

The birth of my first grandchild has awakened,
A joy that my soul cannot contain.
From day one my heart's been stolen by her,
But you won't be hearing me complain.


8/9/13
for Gail Angel Doyle's "Treasures of my Soul" contest

Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Unconditonal Love

The black water reflects the still morning
While monarchs flutter in the rising sun
Purple skies grow lighter without warning
Seperate rain, as rainbow colors run
Could I have seen a more beautiful sky?
Silently approaching your silhouette
My eyes well slowly in their joyous sigh
You sit alone, playing your clarinet
There's no vision or reflecting water
That warms my heart as this picture of you
A quivering heart for you, my granddaughter
As you practice in tune with a sky so blue

I am a witness to your gentleness
I feel the music your soul can express

Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Ten Little Toes

Ten little toes, precious and sweet.
Connected to, chubby one year old feet.
Running across, my freshly washed floors.
Muddy footprints that start at my door.

Ten little toes, painted hot pink,
from under the hem, they peek beneath.
As she stands barefoot in her moms dress,
in the mirror,  a seven year old fashion success.

Ten little toes, steps into her gown.
So happy in love, her feet don't touch the ground.
Standing there waiting, for the first note,
shoes in one hand, the other, the vows that she wrote.

Ten little toes, a miracle to see,
connected to, chubby new born feet.
Soon to be running across my floors.
A Granddaughter carried, through my front door.


For the contest "Barefoot"
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Placement: 2nd


Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

White ghosts in Granny's kitchen

it started for me and my grandma always 
on those rare  but special Saturdays
the grandmother and granddaughter festival of preparations 
for Sunday's after-church celebrations

the backing of the best  cinnamon-sugar -cake
grandma's and my quality time to bake
we talked and shared our secrets of life
I was even allowed to use her sharpest bread knife

just the two of us throwing remaining pounce  
creating our beautiful and beloved  floury gowns
laughing loud with tears all over our white faces 
and countless most heartfelt warm embraces

cleaning the antique black and green kitchen was another highlight
as well as the two missing slices for our well-deserved sneaky bite
grandma's great excuse: the cake broke into two 
our secret two-disappearing-slices-of-cake coup 

all those emptied flour sacks we could never hide
were  transformed into something itchy, white and wide
I wore them always with the hugest possible smile
despite and thanks to the formless but exclusive floury white-ghosts style

©Ellie Daphne

PS. She did not give me 'just' h e r recipe for this great cake but also her recipe for 
my life..................


Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Passing On of Little Bee, Ojibway, Thunder Bay

Little Bee, Deaamoo, grandmother of the Crane Clan, lies staring. The light of 
winter’s first full moon falls into the room. Through a ghostly haze of tobacco and 
sage smoke, she sees her loved ones. One withered hand clasps a cowrie shell, 
mee-ghis, tightly to her heart and in the other she holds a small dreamcatcher for 
her youngest granddaughter Little Aamoo. Strands of gray white hair escape from 
her braids which trail down beside her bird-frail form touching the fringe of her 
parting dress. Her clan has been in the sweat lodge praying for her safe journey 
home, some appear red-cheeked; others are a pale as the shades of her 
ancestors.  It is the end of her days, a time for passing on.

Outside of the house near the fringe of balsam pine a circle of stones are laid, each 
one blessed and bringing an anchoring comfort to man, lodged between earth, and 
sky. The four directions are marked and her way west is clear for her. Soon, she will 
ask loved ones to lay here amongst the gifts laid for Pacugu, The Great horned Owl, 
near the spirit house.

The veil is thin now between this world and the next. The smoke branches upward, 
showing the way to sky world where Gichi Manidoo waits. The songs are being sung 
for her now. The Shaman’s rattle is crisp and clear. All about her is beauty. Drums 
keep the beat of her heart. They wait. Remembering one last story, she calls her 
family to her, she must leave them with all the knowledge she has. "Ah, what was 
that story? Well, that is not for you." 





Premium Member Poem | Details | Granddaughter Poem | |

Great-Great and Greater Grandma

From deep recesses of my mind
I bring a great great-grandma’s face.
She left no photograph behind.
I dream her dressed in bits of lace,
Tatted perhaps by her own hand,
A talent she didn‘t leave to me.
She labored and loved and lived and left
No memories for her progeny.

I’ve traced her name, all I can do
To give her substance, make her real,
A living being who could cry
Could laugh and all emotions feel.
There was a time I could have asked
Her granddaughter of what she knew.
That chance is now forever lost
No one is left to give a clue.

Dear Grandma I lend you my pen,
Please tell about the life you led.
Be free to speak your mind through me
And say the things you would have said.
A wealth of stories left untold
And lessons from which we could have learned.
Dear Mollie Blosser, I’d then record
The place in history you have earned. 


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